


Bruises

by cowboynuts



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Smut, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 19:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboynuts/pseuds/cowboynuts
Summary: You passed him on your way to bed. Hand lingering on his shoulder as you brushed past,I love you.You felt him lean into your touch for a split second and then shake it away with another swig,You shouldn’t.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> a couple notes i feel are required;  
> 1\. consent CANNOT be given when one or more members of a party are intoxicated. this is a piece where two people continue despite being drunk and it is only bc its a fictional piece of writing. i don't condone this behavior   
> 2\. this piece also has themes of self harm and arthur using someone else to harm/punish himself. if that's not going to put you in a good headspace or trigger you, please don't read!! take care of yourself-- i have lots of other arthur/reader fluff works to explore instead!

Everyone was silent as they rode back into camp. You watched Arthur dismount— pat his horse half-heartedly. Sulk over to the outskirts of camp with a bottle of whiskey and fall back in a slump. You sighed to yourself and kept chopping wood. 

It got later and later, the sun falling from the sky and the moon taking its place. You cautiously watched Arthur when you could. Saw the bottle go empty. Then another. He loosened up a bit, wandered towards the fire solemnly in the late evening. You caught his eye when you were eating dinner and gave a soft smile. His sad, blue eyes lingered on you. Almost pleaded for something and then he looked away abruptly. Chased it with another few gulps of alcohol and you turned back to your food, exhausted. 

You passed him on your way to bed. Hand lingering on his shoulder as you brushed past,  _ I love you _ . You felt him lean into your touch for a split second and then shake it away with another swig,  _ You shouldn’t. _

You felt your shoulders slump down with a silent sigh. Your fingertips graze his warm neck, tangling in the fringe of his hair. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” you whisper softly, almost too quiet to hear. 

He grunts in response. Heard you, at least. You press your fingertips against his skin one more time before walking off to your tent. Stripping down and crawling into bed, wondering where you’ll find him in the morning. 

* * *

It’s hours later when he stumbles in. Reeking of whiskey and smoke. His fingers are drunkenly fumbling at his belt buckle and he swears frustratedly. You rub your eyes and yawn. Hush him quietly and help him strip down. He falls back on the ground— giggles childishly. You envelope him in the warmth. Feel him saddle up to you and kiss the exposed skin of your neck hungrily. You moan softly, then come to your senses. 

“You’re drunk, Arthur.” 

His voice is rough, slurred, “So?” 

Big hands curl over your hips and he ruts against you desperately. You groan involuntarily, try to clear your head. His lips are hot and wet on your neck again, “Fuck me.” 

“Arthur—“

“Make me forget,” his voice is nearly inaudible and he pauses, hesitant. You feel yourself sigh, know you’ve already given in. He melts against you, hands ripping away at your union suit. Does the same with his and you massage his hip slowly. He growls— kisses you hard and presses painfully against your body. You press his chest lightly, then shove when he doesn’t give. He smiles in response and you pin him down, tug his hair to expose his neck. Pulls a bigger grin from him as you bite and kiss his neck harshly. He rolls his hips up testingly and you slam his hip down hard. Lucky you gave in to him like this— testing you was pushing it. He tries to move under your hand again and you curl tighter, pressing bruises into his skin. His face twists but he forces a moan. You pull back, study his face more intently. See the pain in his face, his jaw set. Lip quivering so slightly you would miss it. You pull back. Sit your weight on your knees. Pull the clothing aside to see the deep purple bruising flowering on his pale skin. You brush it lightly and watch him shudder. 

“Oh, Arthur.” 

He bites his lip, “Keep going.”

You hold his face. Kiss him softly, like you should have when he stumbled in. Tears slide down his cheeks— his voice quivering. 

“Please hurt me.” 

You rub your thumbs over his skin. Feel the wetness as they slide. Drop to his side and hold him close, “Never.” 

He curls into you, buries his face against your chest and sobs brokenly. Fists curl against the cloth near your hip and you hug him tighter. Soft hushes and whispers of love come as he falls apart in your arms. You hold him. Wipe his tears. Protect him as he pieces back together for the morning light. 

The next day, he emerges as if nothing happened. Jokes around camp. Helps with chores. Guiltily avoids your gaze until he can’t anymore. Goes on another job and then another and another. Everything is almost forgotten. Except the bruises. 

The bruises stay for days. 


End file.
